


A Canvas That Paints Itself

by Aristocraticbloodlust



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content, There’s not really anything I can think to tag for this, Wesker thinks too damn much while fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 21:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19934944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aristocraticbloodlust/pseuds/Aristocraticbloodlust
Summary: A release from the pressures of life.





	A Canvas That Paints Itself

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this under the same title awhile ago, but took it down because I felt it wasn’t really finished and a bit of an orgy of words to read. This one is slightly more improved version of that, but still a clusterfuck of words so idk. I tried tho. The only reason why I actually got to re-writing this was because I felt inspired after reading ‘Paradise Found’ by Problematic_Wesker_Stans and listening to Alison by Slowdive. Sorry if this shit is trash

He’s a broken man gifted with the devil’s advocate. His body resides somewhere between the two.

She’s completely clueless as to what she’s playing with. She’s completely blind as to what he really is, but as time passes, he governs it doesn’t need to matter and she doesn’t ever need to know who he really is. Or what he ever will be.

They’re seeking refuge in his home from the storm outside-Raccoon’s infamous thunder storms and downpours during the duration of time that is May. She’s seeking warmth and love in his body.  
He’s seeking to bury himself into her so that the closest he can get to death feels like pink roses on a fluorescent green hill with sunlight radiating down from the sky. 

A peaceful end, one where he can close his eyes and see salvation waiting for him. 

He knows he’ll never get to heaven.

She moans, a sound that makes a mental imprint on his broken mind. She presses her sticky palms into his shoulder blades, finds the perfect place to shove her head into. His warm neck being the place of designation.  
She darts out that candy flavored tongue to lick his pulse, finding the jugular. 

He thinks about her biting into it. His blood spilling out onto his covers.  
Wondering if she’ll relish at the taste, so that when he inevitably becomes the condemned shell of a man he knows he’ll be, and his face becomes synonymous with disgust worldwide, she’ll know what it is to taste Lucifer at her lips. 

Gifting her the flavor of the epitome of man at her tastebuds.  
It’s a hell of a world they’re souls were doomed to have existed in.

Oftentimes, he catches himself thinking back to a time before he was born-a time when he was just a fetus, writhing around inside the lake of water confined by the fleshy red walls of his birth mother’s stomach.  
There’s a certain sense of emptiness within it. A sense of feeling he can’t ever feel. 

He doesn’t know what it is. He won’t let it bother him.

Another sob, the cry of “Albert!” sounding from her mouth, pulling him from Earth to Neptune in a millisecond.  
He kisses her, drinks her whines.  
He can almost get drunk off it.

His hips pick up the pace.

________________________________________

When she finishes, Wesker’s lover is lethal mess.  
The true sight of succubus at his eyes. Messy, truly unruly hair drawn in like curtains for her face, a natural tease. The rest of her looks so good he may have to succumb again.  
He wants to fuck her again, he feels his cock harden at the sight.

But she’s sore and red from all the plowing from before. She wants a break, to let her body go from worked up to at ease. It’s better that way anyway, so he can see her sleep. Eyes closed so he can see those long ginger eyelashes meet her rosy cheeks.  
Sleeping beauty.

Her existence could just be considered just another wasted life. A life Umbrella could rape and destroy if they ever knew.

He won’t let it happen, not for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this wasn’t ooc. I often don’t write much Wesker (despite him being my favorite character in the series along next to Leon Kennedy) because it’s increasingly difficult to write about a man who doesn’t know what it is to feel human emotion. It’s my personal headcanon that Wesker at one point did feel something akin to love when he was with Jake’s mom, but had to break it off so she wouldn’t get in the way of his work and so that umbrella wouldn’t use her against him in anyway. Anyhow, if anyone’s still reading, thanks for getting to end of this and reading this fic. Means alot. 😊


End file.
